


are there still beautiful things?

by blacksmiths



Category: folklore - Taylor Swift (Album)
Genre: Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Holidays, Peace, Seven, cardigan, i am once again projecting, remember being a kid and also happy?, set in australia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-23 16:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30058446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacksmiths/pseuds/blacksmiths
Summary: August is seven when her parents take her camping for the first time.
Relationships: august & marjorie, james/betty
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey! this is like half a chapter of a bigger work but i wanted to get it out so here it is
> 
> also it's set in aus and our summer holidays are also our christmas holidays  
> x

August is seven when her parents take her camping for the first time. She sits in the backseat on the way there and she has just learned how to read properly so she can’t stop even when they get to the mountains and the roads are winding and her mum tells her;

“Look up sweetheart, or you’ll feel sick.”

She just continues to read her book, and she pays for it later when they have to stop for her to jump out of the car and throw up in the trees on the side of the road. Her parents are angry that she didn’t listen, but she changes out of her spewed-on clothes and gets back in the car and continues to read her book until they get there.

Their destination is a caravan park in the mountains. She has to finally stop reading to help her parents put up the tent, which is a source of tension as they try to figure out where, exactly, it should go. It is night by the time they have unpacked and all they have to eat for dinner is toast. August goes to bed as soon as she’s finished eating, without bothering to brush her teeth or put on pyjamas. She falls asleep before the light has been turned out.

She wakes to the rush of the river and birds twittering and the sun shining softly on her face through the flywire screen that acts as a window. Her mum is still asleep, but she tumbles outside and her dad is reading his own book and he looks up at her and grins, asking;

“Sleep well then, Augs?”

She nods happily before making herself cocoa pops for breakfast. The cocoa pops were a Christmas present from Santa, and they’re a special treat because her dad never allows them otherwise. Her mum gets up while she’s eating, and August listens to her parents plan their day and knows this is going to be the best two weeks of her life.

The first item on their list is exploring the town, and so in the afternoon August is trailing behind her parents along a path on the banks of the river. It is quiet here, although the water crashes on rocks and people chatter as they walk past. She is used to the city, and in comparison this place feels almost untouched.

The river, apparently, runs right through the town, and a bridge separates the two halves of it. They don’t seem very different, really, it’s just that there is the caravan park and a few shops on the one side, and proper houses and a few more shops on the other. The shops on this side include an IGA, a bookshop, a fish and chips place and, to August’s delight, a lolly shop. Because it’s the holidays her mum gives her five dollars and August is set free on the store to buy as many things as she possibly can on a budget. Her parents watch on in amusement as she comes back with packets of sour straps, jaffas, and a single chocolate covered strawberry. She shows off her purchases proudly, declaring that she’s _not_ going to finish them all in one day this time, she’s going to save them.

“They do look really good, though,” her mum jokes. “If you save them too long I might have to steal some.”

At this, August clutches her bags tightly, making a mental note to count her lollies all up later.

“Buy some yourself,” she retorts, holding her head higher in defiance. Her parents laugh fondly, but August doesn’t think it’s very funny.

She gets tired from walking so much quickly, and is soon complaining that she wants to go home. For once, her parents don’t tell her off for whining, and they head back to the campsite, where August’s dad uses the public barbecues to make sausages in bread for dinner.

The next few days are just as good as the first, and even more busy. They explore the shops on the other side of the river; the best ones being two op shops, which her mum spends hours in, a bakery that sells the best donuts August has ever eaten, and a flower shop that is also a café and also sells fruit. They find a part of the river that’s safe to swim in, and August spends hours just jumping in the water and making up games. She gets up to halfway through her book.

It is on the fourth day of their holiday that August makes a friend. Her parents have taken her to a park, and she is running all over the playground. She needs to practice on the monkey bars for school next year, because she’s the only one of her friends who can’t skip twos yet.

She watches the kids on the skate park – a little girl is following after two older boys on scooters, begging for a turn. Other boys, older, have actual skateboards, and August watches them. When she grows up she wants to be able to do that.

Later, she’s on the swings. She doesn’t need anyone to push her anymore. She moves her legs back and forth as hard as she can, pushing herself higher and higher and then she’s flying through the air. It’s just her and the tops of the trees and the big blue sky, and if she pretends enough, she can be flying for real, the ground not even in sight.

But she’s not looking and she doesn’t notice that the girl from the skate park is running right below her until she’s about to hit her and the swing is going too fast for her to stop and so she screams;

“Watch out!” as loud as she can.

The girl jumps out of the way and then grins up at her as she slows down enough to get off.

“Sorry,” she says, although she doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“That’s stupid,” August replies, “everyone knows you shouldn’t run in front of swings.”

“Yeah.” There’s a pause. The girl is still grinning at her, dimples on her cheeks and eyes all scrunched up at the sun.

“What’s your name?”

“August. What’s yours?”

“I’m Marjorie. It’s boring, I wish I could have a cool name like you.”

August doesn’t think it’s a boring name, exactly. Just the type of name she’d expect from someone’s grandma. Not a kid.

“Hey,” Marjorie says, “wanna play blindman with me and my brothers?”

And so the rest of the afternoon is spent in fits of laughter and hanging off play equipment with screams of ‘ _blindman – no one!’_. August’s parents have brought a packet of shapes and she shares them with Marjorie and her brothers and they all lick the flavouring off their fingers, but it still ends up on their clothes. Marjorie’s dad is telling August’s that they live in a house right near here and he says;

“You guys could pop over for a bit tomorrow if you’re free.”

“Yeah thanks mate, that’d be great,” is the reply from August’s dad, and all the possibilities start running through her mind.

So Marjorie starts to tell her about her dolls and they make plans to have a tea party tomorrow. When August gets to bed that night she can’t sleep – she’s just too excited. She tosses and turns for hours after the lights have been turned out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's another part of an unfinished chapter just for fun

Betty is sixteen, and like any good sixteen-year-old she doesn’t know what she wants. Her

crisis is almost constant, but it becomes worse in situations like this, sitting at her kitchen table with her best friend and a cup of tea, discussing what subjects they plan to choose for next year. Course selection is due in the next week, and once again the school has given them almost no time to decide. This year it’s important, too – they’re going into VCE and every adult Betty has spoken to just won’t stop banging on about how it will affect their choices for university, and, as such, the entire rest of their lives.

“I’ve got normal English, Further, Philosophy and Politics, but I don’t know what else… I thought maybe Studio Art, but I’m not sure I can take a portfolio subject, really,” James is saying, “What are you thinking?”

“Shit,” Betty laughs back, “I’ve got nothing.”

She gets up to chuck their drained mugs in the sink as she bemoans her non-existent decision making skills, James laughing along at her dramatics.

Rain falls heavily against the windows, the scent of cake in the oven begins to take over the kitchen, and Betty is at peace, just for a minute.

“Wanna play a game?” she says.

They end up playing spit on the living room floor. James is winning by a country mile, because Betty hasn’t played it since year eight. She was the one who taught it to James in the first place, back when they were new friends. They used to play it whenever they could, and Betty would win every time. She doesn’t think it’s fair that it’s changed.

When it finally ends in Betty’s humiliation, James lets out a massive cheer. They’re both competitive, and James is dramatic on top of that. She has a little victory dance she performs before flopping down on the floor again. Betty gives her best mock-offended look, making loud excuses for herself.

They settle down to Suzanne Vega’s ‘Language’ playing through the stereo. Betty’s been listening to a lot more of her dad’s music recently, though she’d never tell him.

She looks over at James, with her awful dirty-blond mullet that Betty helped Rose cut a couple of months ago, with her wrinkled too-big shirt and blundstones, and thinks that she really wants to kiss the girl in front of her. For a minute, she can’t tell if it’s just something she’s making up in her head – every now and then she’ll decide she likes someone just for the sake of liking someone – but this is different, somehow. Or maybe it isn’t. Maybe this time she’s just choosing to act on it.

“Can I kiss you?”

The words tumble out quietly, and she’s all hot and flustered, but James nods. She leans across, and it’s a little bit awkward, but she expected that. James kisses her back, and it’s also a little bit brilliant.

It’s not much, it ends quickly. Betty looks up to see James grinning shyly at her.

Shit.

She didn’t think this through. She doesn’t know what she wants.

“What?” James asks, teasing, of her worried look, “Am I that bad at kissing?”

“No,” Betty replies, and _oh god,_ _this is really awkward now,_ “I just… don’t know why I did that.”

James shrugs, and Betty wonders how she can be so calm about this.

“Does it matter?” she asks. Betty supposes it doesn’t really.

They play another game of spit and then the timer on the oven goes off and they spend the rest of the afternoon eating cake and gossiping in Betty’s hopelessly untidy room. They don’t talk about the kiss, but something has definitely shifted. That’s how it starts.


End file.
